"Loyalty to your country comes first," he said; "it must. Everything else goes by the board. I did not know you felt that way about Germany; but since you do There is no more to be said. Go back to your own country of course. You can't help yourself."

I have no doubt that Gorman meant exactly what he said. If he had been in Ascher's position, if once the issue became quite plain to him and the tangle of political alliances were swept away, he would have thrown all his interests and every other kind of honour to the wind. He would have sacrificed his business, would if necessary have parted with his wife; he would have been loyal to the land of his birth, entirely contemptuous of any other call or any claim.

Mrs. Ascher clung tightly to her husband's arm. "Words," she said, "words, only words. You must not listen to him."

Ascher felt for her hands again, grasped them and held them pressed close against him. He turned from Gorman to me.

"And you," he said, "what are you going to do?"

The question took me by surprise. I had no difficult decision to make.

My course was in clear daylight. Besides, it did not matter to any one what I did.

"You, yourself," said Ascher again. "What are you going to do?"

"Oh," I said, "I'm going back to my regiment. I suppose they'll take me.

Anyhow I shall offer myself."

"And fight?" said Ascher.

"Well, yes. I suppose I shall fight. This war won't be over in a week.

I'm pretty sure to get my turn. Yes, I shall almost certainly fight."

"Why?" said Ascher. "What will you fight for?"

It was Gorman who answered the question. He had recovered from his brief outburst, and had become the normal Gorman again.

"The war," he said, "is for the liberation of Europe. It is a vast struggle, an Armageddon in which the forces of reaction, absolutism, tyranny, a military caste are ranged against democracy. It is their last appearance upon the stage of history. Vindicated now, the principles of democracy----"

"If you think," I said, "that I'm going out to fight for the principles of democracy, you're making a big mistake. There's nothing in the world I dislike more than that absurd democracy of yours."

"Then why?" said Ascher, mildly persistent. "Why are you going to fight?"

"Well," I said, "I don't want to say anything offensive about your people, Ascher. The Germans have a lot of fine qualities, but if they were to win this war, if they were to succeed in imposing their civilisation and their mentality on us all, if they were to Germanise the world, the sense of humour would perish from among men. n.o.body would any longer be able to laugh. We--we should find ourselves taking governments and officials seriously. Just imagine! To live under a bureaucracy and not to see that it was funny! Surely it's worth while fighting for the right to laugh."

"You Irish!" said Ascher. "Even in times like this your love of paradox----"

"Don't say it," I said. "If you can possibly help it don't say that. I admit that I brought it on myself and deserve it. I apologise. That is not my real reason for going back to my regiment. I only gave it to you because I don't know what my real reason is. It's not patriotism. I haven't got any country to be patriotic about. It's not any silly belief in liberty or democracy. I don't know why I'm doing it. I just have to.

That's all."

"n.o.blesse oblige," said Ascher. "Your honour as a gentleman."

I shuddered. Ascher--there is no other way of putting it--is grossly indecent. A woman has a sense of modesty about her body. It would be considered an outrage to strip her and leave her stark naked in the middle of the room. I cannot see why a man should not be credited with some feeling of modesty about his soul. I detest having my last garments plucked from me in public. Complete spiritual nudity causes me very great embarra.s.sment.

"You can put it that way if you like," I said. "The plain fact is I can't help myself. I must go back to my regiment. I have no choice."

"I have come to see," said Ascher, "that I have no choice either. There is such a thing, though perhaps Mr. Gorman will not believe me--there is such a thing as the honour of a banker. It compels me."

He put his arm round his wife's waist as he spoke. Still holding her hands in one of his, he led her from the room. Her head drooped against his shoulder as they went out.

"I suppose that means," said Gorman, "that he's going to stick it out and see the thing through. It will be infernally awkward for him. I don't think he realises how nasty it will be. He hasn't considered that side of it."

"A man doesn't consider that side of things," I said, "when he's up against it as Ascher is."

"Well, I'll do my best about the naturalisation papers. That'll be some help."

"It's very hard to be sure," I said, "but I'm inclined to think that Ascher is right."

"He's utterly wrong," said Gorman. "A man's country ought to come first always. You don't understand that because you're denationalised; because, as you say yourself, you have no country. But it's true, whether you understand it or not."

"When I think of that business of his," I said, "the immense complexity of it, the confidence of thousands of men in each other, all resting at last on a faith in the integrity of one man, or rather of a firm--the existence of such a business, world-wide, international, entirely independent of all ties of race, nationality, language, religion, in a certain sense wider than any of these--it's a great, human affair, not English nor German, not the white man's nor the yellow man's, not Christian nor Buddhist nor Mohammedan, just human. Ascher owes some kind of loyalty to a thing like that. It's a frightfully complicated question; but on the whole I think he is right."

Gorman was not listening to me. He had ceased, for the time, to be interested in Ascher's decision. I tried to regain his attention.

"Ascher says," I said, "that there is such a thing as the honour of a banker, of a financier."

That ought to have roused Gorman to a contradiction; but it did not.

"Do you think," he said, "that we could get them to take on Tim in any job connected with flying machines? This war will knock all his inventions into a c.o.c.ked hat. He will simply be left, and he has a real turn for mechanics. If he got messing about with aeroplanes he might do something big, something really valuable. But I don't know how to go about getting that sort of job for him. I'm not in with military people.

Look here, you've a lot of influence with the War Office----"

"No," I said. "None."

"Nonsense. You must have. A word from you---- I'll tell you what we'll do. I'll work Ascher's naturalisation papers for him, and you get Tim taken on by the Army Flying Corps people."

"Perhaps," I said, "you'd like me to get you a Staff appointment while I'm at it."

"Oh, no," said Gorman. "I'm not a soldier, I'm a Member of Parliament.

My job is----"

Gorman hesitated. For a moment I thought that he was in real doubt, was actually wondering what place he ought to take, what work he ought to do.

"Yes," I said. "You. Now, what is your idea for yourself?"

Gorman drew himself up to his full height, squared his shoulders and puffed out his chest.

"My place," he said, "is in the great council of the Empire."

I gasped.

"Good Lord!" I said. "You don't really think--you _can't_ think, that your silly old Parliament is going to matter now; that you politicians will be allowed to go on talking, that there will be divisions in the House, and elections and all that foolishness."

Gorman, still heroically erect, still enormously swelled in chest, winked at me with careful deliberation. I was immensely relieved.

"Thank G.o.d," I said. "For a moment I thought you really meant it--all that great-council-of-the-Empire business, you know. It would have been a horrible disappointment to me if you had. I've come to have a high regard for you, Gorman, and I really could not have borne it. But of course I ought to have known better. You couldn't have believed in that stuff, simply couldn't. n.o.body with your intelligence could. But seriously, now, I should like to know--I'm sure you won't mind telling me---- What are you going to do? Your party, I mean. It seems to me you're in rather a hole. The Irish people will expect you to take the regular line of backing the enemy."

"The Irish people be d.a.m.ned," said Gorman; "our game is to support the Government."